Off Balance
by NeonRocks89
Summary: written as an apology for the long wait on my other fics. Klaine advent Balance.


New York pedestrians were rude and arrogant on a good day. The constant bustle was comforting, well almost, even though you couldn't move three steps without having a shoulder check, for Kurt Hummel that sure quickened pace and people knowing exactly where they were going provided a balance in his life.

Sure at the age of thirty he had a lot of milestones still to overcome. That vice president spot in the latest up and coming fashion house was a coveted one, but it wasn't the presidential role. That two bedroom town house uptown wasn't the penthouse suite he had always dreamed of. Lastly and more importantly the ten dates he had been on in the last four weeks, first dates to be procise, wasn't the happily ever after love affair he had dreamed of all through-out high school. He wasn't a difficult man to please, as he had assured his closest colleagues and friends of this after every failed blind date often enough, he just had an image in his head.

Yes, Kurt Hummel had standards but was it too much to ask for to find a man, any man that; enjoyed long walks on cold winter Sundays, knew when to offer chivalrous gestures and when to receive them, to enjoy healthy food but also love to splurge when only the best cheesecake would suffice? As he grew older it seemed the answer was a huge resounding no.

Another barge to the side, from a woman in a business suit and trainers no less, had him shaking his head to come back to himself. Thankfully his morning coffee had been rescued and not launched across his dry clean only suit. He had no time for delays this morning. His fashion house were about to enter into a takeover of a smaller European label, it had been all over the tabloids, it was a big step in expanding the brand and Kurt's boss, President and Founder Isabelle Wright, had placed him in charge. With a sweeping glance at his watch, the best Swiss import money could buy, he realised he was cutting it close to being late and late was one thing that the German Designer would not tolerate.

His pace quickened as he approached Ralph Kramden in his bus driver's uniform, giving him a discreet nod in passing as he always does, before starting his stroll toward 9th Ave. Unfortunately for Kurt, the next collision was a solid torso barrelling into him before a set of luggage wheels clipped his heels and sent him sprawling to the ground. His crushed coffee cup seeping the hot liquid on to his suit, his very important suit, for his very important meeting.

He could feel the tension building in his head, as several new Yorkers trampled past him, the anger growing hot inside his chest as he stretch up to look for the cause of his mess.

"Oh my god, I'm so…I really didn't mean it. I mean, I was saluting to Kramden and then…wham you came out of nowhere!" A voice dripping with sincerity, seeped into Kurt's brain making his head whip in that direction, ready to spit venom from his tongue. Of all the worst moments in his life, today HAD to be the day when an out of Towner decided to mow him down. It couldn't have been the day he had the most boring date of his life, or the day he was called in for jury duty with no excuse? No it had to be quite possibly the biggest day of his life. His eyes trailed across the death trap luggage carrier, Gucci's latest fall line, until he saw them. Honey swirled hazel eyes, full of concern and surrounded by furrowed brows under a mess of black curls. His anger seems to dissipate instantly.

"Are you okay?" the eyes, well man asked, but god those eyes. "Oh god! I've given the first person I meet in the city a concussion! Please don't have a brain bleed. Shit, sorry I just…fuck." The man deflates in front of him. Kurt uses this time to sit up a bit, his ankle screaming at him, as he tries to put pressure on it. "Oh Jesus have I broken your leg?" Kurt doesn't have time to react as two strong but trembling hands land on his ankle. It's a good job really, seeing as his mind seems to have short circuited and made him mute.

"Ohio!" he isn't sure for a moment that the word came from him until those eyes are on him again. "That accent…you're from Ohio!" The eyes blink slowly, as if afraid to go any faster and miss this moment.

"I'm, huh. Is it that easy to notice?" Kurt becomes aware of three things very quickly. He's still sitting on the ground on 8th Avenue, he is definitely running late and his heart is making this strange fluttering motion inside of his chest. He decides to stand up, merely to try and save his pants from any more damage. The stranger is there in an instant wrapping his arms around his body and holding him close as he tries to put weight on his sore ankle. Unsuccessfully. He feels warm breath tickling against his cheek, stuttering over unsteady breaths. "Blaine. I'm, I mean, oh god. My name is Blaine, I'm from Ohio, Westerville to be precise. Clumsy idiot by day. Sorry about that. Again." Then he – Blaine – does a forced chuckle and manoeuvres out enough so he can watch Kurt, without being able to count the spare change in his pocket, the pocket right next to his (what appears to be) very well endowed…well something a stranger shouldn't be thinking about.

"Kurt, Lima, Mowed down victim, late for the biggest meeting of my career." Blaine winced at his words.

"I could carry you?" Kurt's jaw dropping seemed to alert him to how out of the ordinary that request would be. "I mean, if you can't walk on your leg… I can help. It's my fault after all-"

"Hold it right there Curly! Let go of the Porcelain china doll and live to see another day!" Kurt doesn't even need to look up to know who that is, He watches Blaine's adam apple bob as he swallows before dropping his hands from Kurt's well defined waist.

"Santana….What are you doing here?" Kurt drones, sending an apologetic glance in Blaine's direction as he fusses with his satchel.

"I tracked your phone with my app….I told you it'd come in handy!" She says matter of factly. "Now care to explain why you're not in that meeting? Isabelle's ready to have a meltdown, hence why I came to find you, if you don't get to the office quick….. Who's your fuck buddy?" She stops, staring enquiringly

"No! I mean not that I wouldn't want to, but, oh, no I just slammed into him by mistake and –"

"That's what they all say short stack. I'd know, I'm the one Lady Hummel sends to execute his ex-lovers-"

Kurt, seemingly having enough of her, slapped the back of her head. "Santana! She thinks she's funny…" trying to plead out an apology so that this handsome stranger doesn't consider him a raving lunatic.

"I know I'm funny!" Santana exclaims with a proud smile, tearing her gaze away from Blaine when her phone buzzes in her hand. "C'mon hot stuff, boss ladies stalling for you. You know how these Business men get if you keep them waiting." She moves to take his elbow in hand and lead him off but a soft whisper of his name has him whirling back round, which almost makes him lose balance again, when he forges his sore ankle in the haste.

"I just, I mean. God." Blaine stumbled over his words before taking a deep breath and stealing himself to continue. "Dinner, would you like to get dinner with me tonight? I promise I'm normally more coherent than this. It's been a long couple of days." This is not how Kurt does things on a normal day to day routine, he'd rather skip near death experiences with possible dates. Not that Blaine had said it was a date as such, it could be an apology of sorts. But god damn those eyes! Santana snorted in his ear but he ignored it.

"Yeah, sure. Here's my card. Just call me!" the chipper high pitch squeal was something Kurt hadn't done since Jeffrey – his boyfriend freshman year of college- who to a younger Kurt Hummel seemed like the perfect Disney prince. That squeal had stopped six months in when said 'prince, stole his couch, brand new vintage Chanel jacket and slept with his roommate. Yet here he was squeaking like an excitable mouse, a sexually frustrated one at that, because of an adorable bumbling idiot, just arriving via port authority from the looks of it.

"All right lover boy!" Santana drawls tugging Kurt roughly at his elbow. "He's got your card, as pretentious as that is, no need to melt into a puddle on the sidewalk. Boss lady, big German tycoons, wooing to be done. You can pet the pretty pony later!" and with one last hopeful smile in Blaine's direction they were gone.

Santana was able to stay silent until they were standing outside of the work building fussing with the stain on Kurt's shirt, trying in vain, to somehow make him more presentable. While Kurt sighs dreamily every so often.

"Have you cracked?" She asks, causing him to look at her with raised eyebrows. "Listen this is quite possibly the most important meeting of your career, meaning it's also important to me. I can finally lord it over that bitch Cathy down stairs that I'm on a higher pay grade than her, so I need you focussed, balanced and most importantly not picturing all the ungodly things you could do to that curly headed stranger, okay?"

"Remind me to thank Kramden on the way home." Kurt giggles, actually giggles and pushes the door inward, out of ear of Santana's pleas.

"Yep, we're screwed." She sighs to herself before trying to rush after him.


End file.
